A Taste of Desire
by tectrices
Summary: [PrincessXCriminal] After Saturday's taste of what could be, they're unable to forget. That one taste of something new and dangerous only has them yearning for more. ['And from whom? Someone worth your time' chp 3 up]
1. Standing Quiet in the Rain

**_A Taste of Desire_**

_**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Breakfast Club  
_**Fic Conceptualized: **late February '06  
**Date Posted:** April 9  
**Pairing:** John/Claire; the princess and the criminal  
**Ratings/Warnings:** this chapter is probably one of the highest-rated, but only because of the language Bender so kindly graces us with; besides coarse language, there is little to no objectionable material (the worst would a make-out scene, should I decide that one is needed)  
**A/N:** This isn't my first TBC fic, but it is the first with multiple chapters. I'm already in love with this story and I've only just begun writing it. I'm a little nervous, though-- but who isn't? Let's just hope I did the characters justice. The rating will be 'T' for now, but if anyone thinks I should raise it because of the bad language, please tell me. I'm basing the rating off the ratings of other fics I've read in the fandom. Ahh, and just for the record-- the title of this piece was taken from Robert Frost's poem "Fire and Ice". Thank you, and I hope everyone enjoys!  
**Chapter Notes: **in first-person (Bender) POV

* * *

**Prologue: **Standing Quiet in the Rain

xXx  
x

* * *

I don't remember when the colors first started to blur together. I don't remember the exact moment I realized that I would only see life in black and white. It never really mattered to me– I could have had a fucking technicolor rainbow for a world and nothing would have gotten any better. 

It was the same old shit day after day. Day... after every damn day. What should it matter to me, anyway?

The best way to put it is like this:

I was in some class– probably English– some year, some day, some period. It seems long ago, but it could have really been just a few weeks for all I was aware of the situation. The teacher– some hag– was droning on about some lame-ass book. Alright, not just _some_ lame-ass book; it was Moby Dick, so _that_ lame-ass book. Anyway, the dumb broad was passing out some papers about it, and– contrary to an apparently popular belief– I _can_ read.

So I did.

Hey, I have an image to maintain. If I want to keep hating school, I should at least know what I'm hating, right? And maybe I was half-intrigued by the title.

Well whatever the reason– and I'm not worrying about it now– I read part of the damn papers. It was just the first chapter.

And I realized then that some of these dead writer bastards actually know what the hell they're talking about.

I knew exactly what that Melville guy meant when whoever-the-hell-he-was said he had a damp, drizzly November in his soul. Yeah, so it's pretty fucking poetic– sue me, bitches.

I feel like the rain; gray and sopping and loathed by just about everyone. I like the rain.

I've always liked the rain.

And I was always fine with my drizzle, with my fucking colorless world. It wasn't nice, but it was _mine_. I didn't need the blues or the greens or the oranges or the sunshine-funshine fucking yellows. I was too caught up in all my storm-clouds– I liked the afternoons when the sky was a wall of grays and blues so blue they were almost purple, right before the first drop fell, when it felt like the world was winding up for the final onslaught.

All that raw power in the wind, then... Well, it made me feel absolutely _untouchable_, like I was eternal and infinite and above the rest of the human race. Like some power ballad– God, I'm _untouchable_ then, on those beautiful, cold-intensity days.

I had my damn November, all wet and sad and depressing; I had had it for years. I was blind– I saw nothing, except for everything in that damn black and white and gray.

Until one day I got detention.

Nothing new, right?

No, because I waltzed in exactly like I did on every other Saturday I had to drag my ass up there and was more than ready to stand up to Dick like I owned the place. Did I care that there were four others in there with me? No. Did I ever even imagine that I'd suddenly be granted sight? No.

But I was.

And I could see.

And I realized, for the first time in my life, just how much I liked the color red.

* * *

_prologue end_

**

* * *

**End A/N: Thank you for reading! I should continue this, right? It's going to be an eventual John/Claire, because I'm unhealthily addicted to that pairing. It's almost a Monday fic, but... Well, this first part proves that this fic's at least a little different, doesn't it? I'd appreciate reviews. Oh dear me, would I EVER appreciate reviews. And a beta-reader for the rest of the fic if anyone's interested... Heh. Anyway, expect an update sometime soon! I'll be writinga lot untilthis insomniatic spell passes... 

ILB


	2. 1: Visions in my Eyes

**_A Taste of Desire  
_**

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Breakfast Club.  
_**Date Posted: **May 24  
**Warnings:** characters portrayed as I see them-- I did my best to keep them in character, a little bad language  
**A/N:** I apologize for the long wait. I really do. And it's short. I'm horrible; I know I am. But you won't have to wait as long for chapter two. That I can promise. Anyway! Thank you to everyone who reviewed the prologue, and I hope everyone enjoys chapter one! Happy reading.

* * *

xXx 

It's amazing how much you can forget over the course of a day, and how much you realize you never noticed before. So when I saw her again that morning, fresh and smiling like some fucking flower, I was hit– a quick flash, a second glance. Before then, she had been out of my mind. I had changed– one day and already I had forgotten. But then she smiled... And damn if all if the clouds hadn't already started to recede.

* * *

**Chapter One:** Visions in my Eyes

xXx  
x

* * *

There was– and had always been– an undisputed structure to things. No one liked to move outside their little sphere– there were plenty like-minded students to associate with, so few ever considered quitting the comfortable standards that had always governed them. 

But on Monday, March 26, 1984, there were five students who were suddenly dying to break free.

* * *

"Claire? Claire, darling, are you alright?" 

The girl turned her head, a bit startled by the voice. "Wh-what? Oh. Oh yes, Mom, I'm fine." She smiled and nodded slightly.

Her mother was still worried, but she didn't press the issue. She handed her daughter her purse and smiled kindly. "Have a good day, dear. Do you have your house-key? Your father has to go on a business trip and I'm going out with a few of the girls for lunch, so I'm not sure if anyone will be home."

Claire nodded. "Yes, I've got the key. There's no need to worry." She sighed and looked out the window at the front of the school. Her mother glanced at her wonderingly. She nodded and grabbed her bag from the back seat. "Goodbye Mom; I'll see you tonight."

Her mother smiled. "Yes, see you then honey."

She slammed the door and watched as her mother drove off. She sighed and clutched the strap of her small bag tightly. It was Monday morning– a new day. The first school day after everything that had happened Saturday.

And she was completely dreading it.

Trying not to think about Brian, Andy or Allison, she confidently walked up the steps and through the double doors, ignoring all the streaming students in her way. If she saw them, then she saw them. No big deal. And if she had a chance to speak to them, well... Of course she'd speak to them, wouldn't she? Claire wanted to believe the best of herself, she really did. She wanted to believe that they all could be the best of friends, totally independent of the opinions of the student body. But that was unlikely at best, and totally impossible at the worst.

With a sigh, she realized that she'd just have to wait and see what happened. Maybe she wouldn't even run into them. At that thought, she perked up. Maybe everything would go smoothly and she wouldn't have to make the decision at all.

But then, of course, there was John.

'_Oh God,_' she thought, her stomach falling to her feet, _'What the hell am I going to do about John?'_

* * *

Brian swallowed nervously. Was it worth it? Would he really be able to handle the rejection he was nearly certain would come? Andy's friends– the jocks– were all around him, laughing and screwing around before class started. 

He swallowed again.

With one last look at Andy, he turned around and began walking down the hall again, right back towards where he had just come from. But after only three steps he ran right smack into John Bender.

"Oh, I'm... I'm sorry," Brian said nervously, stepping back. He looked down and started to walk away.

But Bender stopped him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, pulling hard on the other boy's shirt. "Hold on there, big Bri," he said. "Not even going to say hello?"

"Um, well I just thought, because we're at school– and everyone can see, you know– I thought that if I said something or greeted you, then–"

"Why don't you just shut the hell up for a minute," Bender snapped, growing impatient and interrupting him. "I got something to say." He looked at Brian, his face hard. "Hi."

"Um... Well..." Bender let go of his shirt and Brian looked up at him, smoothing out the wrinkles from the fist in the fabric. "H-hi."

Bender slapped him on the shoulder. "You see her... Tell her she was wrong." And putting on a pair of plain, black sunglasses, he walked away from the other boy, whistling something as he swaggered down the hall.

Brian scratched his head, wondering what had just happened to him. "Huh. Well that's... That's something I wasn't expecting. I guess being the brain isn't so bad after all."

Wearing a sudden grin, he started back down the hall, feeling less self-conscious than he ever had before. He saw Allison standing against a wall, watching Andy and the other sports. His grin widening, he waved. "Hey! Allison!" She looked up, startled. He waved. "Morning!"

She made a sound that sounded like a "hello"– or a nervous squeak– and his smile broadened even further. He had made new friends– they did care about him. Or, even if c_are _too strong a word, they hadn't forgotten about him. He, in some little way, was finally acknowledged as a person and not just another face in the yearbook. That made his day better– somehow, just a little better.

* * *

Andy had noticed Brian, too, but he hadn't said anything. If Brian had come up to him– and oh God, was he glad he hadn't– then of course he would have said something, but... It would have been too much to explain to his friends if he had walked over to the geeky boy on his own. Someday, it wouldn't be a problem; he would be able to do what he wanted, talk to who he wanted, and not give a shit what anybody else thought. But that someday would take more strength than he thought he had then. Someday, though. Someday. 

He was laughing at a crude joke some random football player made when he noticed a familiar female body leaned against one of the old, dirty walls. It was Allison. She looked confused– he knew she was wondering if it was alright to come talk to him. He glanced around the circle he was in nervously. Alright? Was it alright? What would they all say?

Allison was both relieved and disappointed when Andy smiled at her nervously and waved feebly. She smiled back. He was with all his friends, laughing and joking and acting superbly indifferent to everyone else around. She didn't dare approach him– he had all but told her it could lead to unfortunate repercussions. Either her hopes would be crushed or he'd stiffly say hello and embarrass them both.

Allison shuffled forward, keeping her eyes away. She wouldn't look at him and then nothing would happen. It wouldn't be positive, but it certainly wouldn't be negative either.

Suddenly, though, she felt a hand on her arm. She twisted fiercely, ready to snap out at however had touched her. But she stopped herself, shocked. It was Andy. He smiled, looking sheepish. Across from them his friends were gaping, staring openly at the pair. "Hi."

She chewed on the inside of her cheek nervously, unsure what to say. "Hi."

* * *

Claire was nearly ecstatic. 

Contrary to all her fears, she only saw him once the whole day.

They had been across from each other in the hallway– he with his friends and she with hers. They weren't close enough to even try to speak. He raised an eyebrow at her almost invitingly and she tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled shyly.

Was that it? Just a look? Would he not try to humiliate her, would she not snub him shamelessly?

They were apart less than a second later, but she couldn't forget him. After that one, quick look he had totally invaded her mind. A relationship of any sort between them would never work. She didn't think she'd let herself be involved with him unless it was in some form of relationship, so that cut any contact right out of the picture. A "them" would never work.

But she still couldn't forget him. He was cute– a fine male specimen if she ever saw one. And even though he was probably failing every class (she wasn't sure, but it certainly seemed as though that would be the case), he did drugs (she still wasn't sure if she really minded, though), and he had probably gotten some from half the girls in school (or was she over-estimating him? Surely they found him just as attractive as she did.), she just couldn't get him out of her head. It seemed as though she didn't even want to. And in addition to that, in that brief moment between them she noticed something that made her heart pound and her palms start to sweat–

He was still wearing her earring.

* * *

_chapter end_

_

* * *

_End A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope everyone liked this chapter; I know it took a long time but I did work hard. It basically just sets things up and gets the story ready before I really jump in. If you have a comment or concern, please review. Hey, if you'd just like to tell you liked it review! Anyway, chapter two should be up soon. Thanks again! 

ILB

(-Chapter title is a line from "Sunglasses at Night". Prologue title was line from "Pictures of You".)


	3. 2: Voices Carry

**_A Taste of Desire_**

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Breakfast Club.  
_**Date Posted:** August 27, 2006  
**Warnings:** Bad language, as always  
**A/N:** You'll never have to wait that long for a chapter again. I apologize sincerely. Thanks for everyone who kept reading, and who'll read this new post now. The reviews really helped keep me going!

**Chapter Two:** Voices Carry  
xXx  
x

I don't remember when I first learned that life wasn't fair. I don't remember when I realized that nothing in this world is perfect. But I was young enough to be pretty fucking hurt by the realization– and I was old enough to want nothing to do with a world that was populated by people like my father. Oh yeah– it's about time I got to him, isn't it?

"Oh my God," some people would say– "do you really, like... have to deal with stuff like that? I'd totally die."

I wish you would die, you sorry bitches, and leave me alone in my own little sphere of indifference. Because I can't let myself care. I mean really... What do I have going for me? Nothing. What am I going to do with my life after school? Nothing. What, at the very end of it all, am I really worth?

I know the truth.

_Nothing_.

I'm not worth a damn thing.

No one is! And I hate those people who think that they're so fucking special, that they have something the rest of us lack. Don't they breathe the same air? Aren't they made of the same shit everybody else is? I sure as hell think so, no matter what high and mighty load of bull they've got shoved into their empty heads. I've been told my whole life that I'm nothing special– so I guess I had no choice but to believe it. I guess I had no choice but to finally accept that it's the truth. I'm not anything special. I know I'm a hell of a lot better than some of those other assholes in the world, so at least I have that going for me.

Well... That. And my amazingly good looks and _winning_ personality.

Right. Because I'm so fucking cheery all the time.

I said earlier that I'd get to my father– but I'm not really in the mood to go into all of that. I don't really like him, I sure as hell don't respect him, and as soon as I'm able, I'm leaving that house and I'm not ever going to have to see him again. Maybe I hate him; I don't know– I hate a lot of things. But he's left more than just scars on me, that's for sure. I was hanging out with this girl for a while– she was gorgeous, and I was more than happy to _consider_ her thoroughly. But one day, we were sitting around somewhere, just talking. And she asked me to pass her a drink.

"Hey Johnny," she said, "can you grab me something, please?"

The next day I told her to fuck off and I've never spoken to her since.

Because my father calls me Johnny. And the last thing I need with a girl is the image of his ugly face in my head.

(Line)

Claire was ashamed. And not only ashamed, but scared. What would her friends think of her? What would the rest of the school think of her? She did have a legitimate excuse; Allison was in her English Lit class, and Claire had forgotten to do the homework. That could certainly be her excuse to her friends... But that wasn't fair to the others– not fair at all.

Holding her head high, she walked into the cafeteria.

And, of course, her friends noticed when she started to pass their usual table.

"Hi Claire!" a blonde girl named Laurie said. "Where are you going?"

Claire smiled, trying not to let her determination waver. "Oh, I... I need to catch up on some homework, so I'm going to go sit with Allison and work on it with her." Her throat constricted with the little white lie. She actually sort of _liked_ Allison and Brian– why couldn't she have said that?

"Allison?" The name was unfamiliar to Laurie and the other girls. "Claire, who's Allison?"

Greta, another pretty girl with pale skin and dark hair, suddenly gasped. "Oh, is she new? Ooh, fun! Invite her to sit with us, Claire."

But Claire shook her head. "No, I don't really think she's your kind of person. I mean, she's really nice but she's..." She bit her lip, searching for a euphemism for eats cap'n crunch and pixie stick sandwiches. "Odd."

"Odd?" Laurie laughed cutely. "Why would you want to eat lunch with somebody _odd_?"

Seeing Andy approach the table Allison and Brian already occupied, Claire gave her friends a half-hesitant smile. "I've got to go sit down. I'll see you after school at the mall, though. Bye!" She quickly walked away, her new designer shoes clicking against the linoleum.

When she got to the table with Brian, Allison, and Andy, she suddenly felt a surge of bravery. She set her lunch down on the table and plopped proudly down onto the hard seat. "Hi!"

Allison was the only one who didn't look shocked. Andy stared a moment before shrugging and continuing to engulf his two sandwiches. Brian kept stealing quick glances at her, as though unable to believe she was really there. Allison just opened three packets of salt and poured them on top of her tray of unidentifiable cafeteria food. "Hey Claire."

Andy grinned. "I saw you talking to your friends. I'm glad you could do it, Claire." He looked covertly at Allison. "I don't care what my friends think, either."

Claire shifted nervously in her seat. "I... I still care, Andy, but..." She sighed. "You guys accept me. I don't have to be fake." She nervously ran fingers through her neatly styled hair. "If that means social suicide, then so be it."

Allison grinned. "Glad to be the blade to run you through." She took a big gulp of her drink. "John would be proud."

Brian gasped at the mention of their missing member. "Oh! Guys, I saw him in the hall the other day. I mean, I sort of ran into him on accident, but I still talked to him, you know?"

Claire didn't look at him. "Really? I haven't talked to him."

"He mentioned you, though," Brian said quickly. "I mean... It was really just in passing, but he made it a point to say hello to me, and certainly not out of any consideration for me– he said he was doing it for you, Claire." Brian laughed. "Knowing Bender he just wanted to show you that he was better than you thought, but... He said hello to me, and told me to tell you that you were wrong." He coughed a moment, then cleared his throat and continued. "I think he wanted to show us all that he didn't care what people thought either– that he could break out against his own stereotype as well."

"Show all of us?" Andy asked as he continued to eat like a ravenous wolf, "Or just Claire?"

Allison and Brian shared a grin. "Just Claire."

(Line)

A confrontation was inevitable.

Bender had never been the kind of person to leave a spark to dwindle out– he always set things aflame. He hadn't really analyzed his own feelings for Claire, but he felt confident that he was right about her– she wouldn't want anything to do with him.

Or, were he being honest, he wanted to believe that because then it wouldn't feel like rejection. He didn't want to actively pursue a relationship with her, but there was _something_ there– and he wanted to see if it could ignite.

So he waited by her locker that afternoon, hoping to goad her into a polite exchange of words. He wasn't disappointed.

Claire had just put a book back into her locker when she heard an obnoxious voice beside her.

"Well. What a surprise. Just fancy seeing you here, princess."

She hid her surprise as she whirled towards him. "It's you."

He nodded. "Yeah. It's me."

Claire looked around. None of her friends; none of his friends. A perfectly neutral territory– at least for the moment. "So... Why are you here? Come to bother or humiliate me?"

"Aww, come on, Red," he said with a smirk. "You don't sound too happy to see me."

She frowned and turned back to her previous task. "I wonder why." Before he could retort, however, she continued. "But if you're really not here just to pester me... Why are you talking to me?"

"To show you that I would. My friends are important to me, I'm not going to pretend they're not– but I make my own decisions. And if I want to talk to you..." He walked up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Then I will."

Claire swallowed nervously. She could feel him behind her, even though he was only touching that one spot on her body. He was warm and so real and it made her feel anxious and excited and almost giddy to be that near him. "Do you know how many people it would piss off to see us talking casually– like we were friends or something?"

"Hopefully a lot. What's the point in doing something if it doesn't make someone else livid?" But his crowd had just as much disdain for her type of person as her crowd had for his. And he wasn't going to let her in that easily anyway. So he backed away. He was going to make one last, obscene comment and then leave, but she stopped him.

"Hey," she said quietly.

He immediately got defensive. "What? You have something to say to me?"

She looked at him, her expression nothing but sincere. "You're still wearing my earring."

That surprised him. He nodded slowly, a thumb unconsciously coming up to rub behind the very ear he wore it in.

Claire smiled and moved her own hair back to show that she wasn't wearing a matching pair either. "Me too." Her smiled broadened out into a grin, and with a flirty flounce to her step, she shut her locker and walked off to her next class.

_chapter end_

End A/N: Thanks for reading! Gah, I'm SO SORRY it took so long to post. I really am ashamed. And I'm also sorry that I ended on the same note as the last chapter, but I wanted to go ahead and post this, and it seemed a good ending place-- and who knows when the next part will come out? (I assure you it won't be as long as the wait for this one was, though.) Thanks!

ILB


	4. 3: Moving Forward, Wasting Breath

**_A Taste of Desire_**

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Breakfast Club._  
**Date Posted:** Nov. 24, 2006  
**Warnings: **not surprisingly, more bad language - also, rather flat OCs... except Snake, but he's just bizarre  
**A/N:** I'm... sorry? Yeah, this took a LONG time to come out. Sincere apologies. However, I don't think it's completely terrible. Enjoy!

* * *

xXx 

Did I love her?

Hell no. I really ought to find whoever thinks that and make sure they can never think again. She's just one girl. Just one stupid girl. Do I really seem like the type of guy who'd fall in love just because of a little attraction coming from some unexpected piece of ass? No. In fact, I should have blown her off and reminded her why we hadn't been friends in the first place.

I should have, but I didn't. I was enjoying her - enjoying the attention. And that taste of her, forbidden and forgotten, was too fucking sweet to just throw away. I hadn't realized how strong desire could be, but that girl... she got under my skin. That's right, Cherry, I wasn't ever as indifferent as I pretended to be. I wasn't supposed to have her. Hell, I wasn't supposed to want her.

But I did.

And when I finally had her, I knew I could never throw her away. I thoroughly _considered_ her, and decided that - if I had to fall in love, even for a moment - that it might as well be with someone no one had expected. She's like a drug: one taste... And I knew I wasn't going to be able to get enough.

* * *

**Chapter Three:** Moving Forward, Wasting Breath

xXx  
x

* * *

The news about Claire ditching her group at lunch spread fast. Laurie and Greta, who were always eager to spread gossip, had told Milly and Shawna– both of whom had proceeded to tell their entire herd of friends. Milly was the unquestioned "queen bee"– whatever she said, the others went along with immediately. And if she said that Claire Standish had abandoned the popular kids to eat with losers, then everyone was going to believe her. 

As was the usual custom, the girls met at the mall that afternoon after school let out. If they wanted to get any information out of Claire, that was the place to do it. Claire could never resist the allure of shopping. She had even skipped class to go and then gotten detention. Laurie and Greta had been upset about that for days. How could shopping ever have bad consequences?

They– Milly, Shawna, Susan, Laurie, Greta and Claire– were browsing through the new spring line at one of Claire's favorite stores. When Claire herself was distracted by a thin, mauve blouse, the girls decided to pounce.

"So Claire," Milly said, surprising the girl as she was flipping through a rack, "I hear you've got some new friends."

The girls had formed a circle around her and Claire suddenly felt nervous. She had known that there would be repercussions– or at the least questions– about her actions, and she cursed herself for not preparing for them. "What?" she asked with a grin, still continuing to browse, "I'm not allowed to see other people? I love hanging out with you girls, but I know lots of other people, too."

Greta frowned. "I thought we were your friends, Claire."

"You are my friends." She looked at Greta and smiled. "Just not my only friends."

"We have no problem with other people," Milly said, "but from what I hear, these new _friends_ of yours are real losers."

"That's not totally true," Laurie said, trying to defend Claire. "Andrew Clark was with them."

Shawna giggled. "Andy's no loser."

Claire rolled her eyes, and quickly tried to get out of the conversation. "Girls, look– it's not a big deal. They aren't losers. I'm not a loser, and I assure you that none of you are going to be losers because you hang out with me. Can we just drop it, please? I've had a busy day."

Milly swiftly came up next to Claire, taking the blouse from her hand. "Of course, Claire. Sorry we accused you like that, without any evidence. I don't even have the same lunch as you." She hung the blouse back on the rack and smiled at Claire. "Since you're tired, why don't we drive you home? We haven't seen your mother in such a long time, and she really is a lovely woman." Milly glanced around at the others with shrewd eyes and a false smile. "Isn't she girls?"

"Yes," they chirped together.

Claire forced a smile, wondering how she had managed to stand those girls for so long. Saturday, as stupid as it sounded, had really given her a new perspective on the kind of people she knew. "Sure," she said politely, casting them all a smile. "That sounds like a perfect idea."

A few hours later, Milly was driving Susan home, the other girls all dropped off wherever they had needed to be. They had stopped briefly to have a cup of tea with Mrs. Standish as Milly had suggested, but after about thirty minutes the other girls really had to be getting home.

Milly had kept up a believable front the whole time. She didn't like Claire; she never had. And even though that dislike spawned from jealousy, Milly had never seen any reason to try and resolve it. The other girls didn't bother her; they seemed to realize Milly was dangerous and knew that she didn't care for sharing her spotlight. Claire was oblivious; though she was far from stupid, she didn't seem to realize that someone could possible have ulterior motives for being her friend.

Casting a glance over to the girl beside her, Milly smirked. Susan was the perfect friend– she didn't have any opinions she hadn't taken from someone else, she did whatever she was told, and she was just smart enough to have figured out that she liked to be liked. Milly appreciated those qualities, and she had no qualms about using Susan for her own– occasionally malicious– purposes.

And beating Claire Standish out for the renowned position of "most popular" was a purpose that Milly had been working towards for months.

"Milly," Susan said, as they turned into their neighborhood, "why were you so nice to Claire today? Usually you're really strict about reputations and stuff. Don't you care that she was seen with that geeky physics boy and the creepy girl who was caught climbing the tree on the first day of school?"

Milly smiled. "Oh Susan, you really can't think that badly of me, can you? Claire is our friend. We should support her."

Susan looked confused. "Really?"

She laughed. "No. That bitch is going to get what's coming to her. But not now– we can't have her crumble or we'll all fall. I don't understand why she would even want to hang out with... those kind of people." She scrunched her nose up. "They're poor, unattractive and..."

"Weird!" Susan finished for her.

"Yes. They certainly are. Don't worry, though. We'll give her a chance to regain her senses. And if she doesn't..." Milly adjusted her rearview mirror to check her make-up. "Then we'll make her wish she had." The car pulled into Susan's driveway and she got out.

"Thanks for the ride, Milly," she said happily. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Goodbye, Susan, and remember what I said. Claire Standish's reign is over. It's my turn now. I want you to dig up any dirt on her you can. Understand?"

"Okay Milly; I'll do it. Bye!"

(Line)

Andy and Allison had started eating lunch together every day.

Sometimes, if one wasn't in a sociable mood, they'd just sit there silently– but they would sit there together. That's not to say that there were no problems; Andy's friends disapproved. They were very put off by Allison so they never really approached the two, but they definitely felt Andy's judgement was lacking. They had tried to talk to him, but when one came to school the next day sporting a black eye, not another word was mentioned.

Claire sighed as she watched them from her usual table, surrounded by her group of friends. They didn't care– they were happy together, so happy. She had retreated back to the safety and familiarity of her socially acceptable circle. She didn't avoid the others (except John), and she still talked to the others occasionally (except John), but it was just so much easier to stick to the same group she was used to when she was in a heavily populated area like the cafeteria. Her own feelings made her sick and she glanced over at Andy and Allison again. She was trying to get him to try a part of her lunch, and as could be expected he appeared to be adamantly refusing. They laughed together happily, completely oblivious to the fact that they suddenly had a secret observer.

Was it time to venture out again? Claire couldn't help but wonder if maybe she should throw the safety net away. Watching Andy and Allison certainly made her think.

The bell rang then, signaling the time to head for their next class. Claire stood up with the rest of the students. She pushed a piece of hair behind her ear as she headed to the trash can to throw the remains of her lunch away.

Suddenly, she was hit with the wildest idea. Biting her lip, she wound her way threw the crowd headed not to her next class, but to the bathroom. She walked quickly inside and stood at one of the mirrors, pretending to be adjusting her make-up.

She glanced at the few girls beside her nervously. She had no idea what had possessed her to even consider something so crazy. But she knew that Bender usually skipped sixth period... And she knew he usually hung out by his locker for a few minutes at least... She took her lipstick out of her purse and began to slowly apply another coat. The other girls left then, one soon after the other, and after a quick look at her watch Claire knew that the tardy bell would ring in another minute.

So she stayed there, still pretending to be fixing her appearance even though she was alone.

Then the bell rang. She swallowed nervously. Exiting the bathroom, she made a bee-line for Bender's locker, hoping beyond hope that he would be there.

And sure enough, she spotted him. With a silent sigh of relief, she held her head up higher and continued down the hallway. When she was only a few lockers down from him, she leaned down, pretending to readjust one of her shoes. Her heels had clicked obviously on the tile floor, so she knew he had heard her coming. Would he say something? Would he ignore her? She stood up again. Well, apparently she was going to actually have to speak to him if she wanted his attention.

Walking up slowly, she leaned against the locker next to his and waited. He shut his locker then pulled out a comb and swept it through his hair.

"What're you doing here, princess?" he asked, finally acknowledging her. "You lost?"

Claire rolled her eyes and nervously patted her hair. "No. I am not lost."

A brow raised as he studied her. He put the comb back into his jacket pocket. Then I ask again– why are you here?"

She sighed and crossed her arms defensively. "Maybe I just want to be here." She looked away.

Bender grinned mockingly. "No, I think you _want_ to be in sixth period." He leaned turned and leaned against his locker, pretending to study his fingernails. "You should be studying." He shot her a casual glance. "I know how academically inclined you are, after all."

"Look Bender, I just–"

"Just what?" He straightened up, adjusting his dingy denim jacket. "Thought that you could make a statement by gracing me with your royal presence? Thought that I'd drop everything to see you? Well listen, honey, because–"

"Just shut up, John!" she snapped. "I did come here to see you, but I realize now it was a big mistake. Sorry for ruining your day. I'll just... just go, then."

He grabbed her arm as she started to walk away. "Wait."

She yanked her arm away and fixed him with a wrathful stare. "Why?"

Unfortunately for her, explanations just weren't his style. Instead, he pulled her towards him and kissed her fiercely, cutting off her yelp as his lips roughly found hers.

After a long moment, he pulled away. He was quite pleased to see Claire looking stunned. "Because," he said, voice pitched to a level that, in his experience, would make any girl forgive him– and usually start kissing him again, as well. "I want you to stay."

She wasn't, unfortunately, like just any girl. "It sure didn't seem like that a second ago."

He smirked. "I don't think I'd mind convincing you." He let his eyes run obviously up and down her body. "And since I know you'd have no problem paying for the dry-cleaning on those pretty clothes of yours..." He grinned as she blushed and looked ready to slap him.

"Cut it out, John," she said without any real vehemence.

He kept grinning. "So princess," he said, throwing an arm around her shoulder and beginning to lead her down the hallway, "what exactly did you have in mind?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "Will you think I'm desperate if I say I just wanted to see you?"

"Yes." She hit him teasingly. "But I never said that I didn't like the attention."

(Line)

They were hanging out at the old playground again, smoking and laughing and enjoying the crisp air of the cool spring night. There were streetlights near– streetlights or spotlights, whatever, spread out around the area, coming on automatically when the sun went down.

Lillian grinned, hanging off Dax like he wasn't dating her best friend. "So Bender," she said slyly, looking for a good chance to tease him. "What's this I hear about you..." She pointed at him mock-accusingly. "And some rich little airhead being _friends_? Can't be true, right?"

Randy laughed. "True? I mean, you're talking about Bender... _our_ Bender? No way. He's like... totally beyond all that. He wouldn't dare be seen with someone like..." He paused. "Wait, who the fuck is this girl anyway?"

Lillian giggled. "Claire Standish." Both Dax and Randy gaped at her, mouths hanging open. She nodded. "Claire fucking Standish." She gave Bender a look. "But what has John to say for himself, huh?"

Bender glared. "He says keep your nose in your own business. His shit is his shit– and he'll fucking deal with it on his own." He took a long, slow drag of his cigarette. "And what the hell's this rumor about anyway?"

"Oh, well I don't know," Lillian said, "but Mary-Jane heard that somebody saw the two of you talking. Not you bringing her high-and-mighty ass back to earth– but having a damn civil conversation! And I'm just curious to see if that could possibly, possibly... Be true?"

Bender's hand nervously came up to his left ear. Snake noticed, but chose to say nothing. "True? You cut me, Lills. Would I really talk to somebody not worth my time?"

Lillian smiled and said, "That's my boy."

Bender didn't say much after that, but no one really seemed to notice his rather characteristic lack of chatter. Everyone was too happy, too high, having too much fun to care. It was late, getting later, but the time had always been irrelevant to them. After Dax reminded everyone that they had school in the morning, the group decided to depart. Everyone was laughing hard at some crude and amusing story Lillian had told, already heading off to where the cars were parked. Bender let out a huff of breath.

Suddenly, Snake grabbed his arm. "Whoa there, weary traveler– such earnest retreat speaks on its own. And I happen to be traveling your way, so stroll with me for a brief moment of shared reflection."

Bender looked ahead to the others, but they were talking and laughing and hadn't even noticed that the two had fallen behind. "What do you want, Snake?"

"My motives are pure." He stopped for a moment and looked Bender over, studying him closely. Then, abruptly he said, "That's a real diamond. But only one? I simply must ask– where'd you make such a find?"

Bender got defensive immediately. "What the hell does it matter, Snake? I didn't steal it, if that's what you're wondering."

Snake shrugged. "Merely searching for connections. I can't help but think that this new earring might have once belonged to another. Was it a gift, perhaps? And from whom?" He blinked. "Someone... worth your time?"

"I ask again– what does it matter, Snake? If she's fucking worth my time or not, it's my business."

Triumphantly, Snake smirked. "So our wanderer has a women behind the scenes." He clapped Bender on the back. "John, old boy, I give you my blessing." He winked. "Saw you two kissing in the hallway today." He started walking towards the others, leaving Bender standing there rather shell-shocked.

"Snake... Hey, Snake, wait, I–"

The older man turned around, grinning. He kept walking backwards towards the rest of their friends, arms up in a shrug. "Time for me to return to the homeland. If it's your wish to keep this liaison a clandestine affair, then rely on ol' Snake to be silent. Later."

"Damn it," he cursed quietly. "Looks like this just got complicated."

* * *

_chapter end_

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_-End A/N: I know what you're thinking: sad attempt at plot development. Well, yes but... Heh. I still sort of liked it. Hopefully you did, too! Gotta thank everyone who's reviewed so far - that means a lot! I'm going to start working on the next chapter; we'll see how soon I can finish it! Thanks for reading! 


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